White Rose
by YoungSasuke
Summary: My 1st story, so BE NICE! Sasuke remenices on his past, and muses a bit. BETTER THAN IT SOUNDS! no flames, plz.


White Rose  
  
I remember a time, long ago... When everyone around me was happy. Everything was peaceful. Everything was perfect. This was when I was happy. The only time I was, and perhaps when I ever will. I was young, and had my fair share of mistakes, but, heck, nobody's perfect. I had a mother and a father, who loved and cared for me. They would be there whenever I fell down or got hurt, and they would make all the hurt go away.  
  
But then, I decided I wanted to crack out of my shell of safety, and go exploring. That was when I finally looked up to Him. He was perfect. He was one of my angels, who I imagined had billowy, soft, white wings, and a golden halo above his delicate but strong head. I felt like he was sent down to look after me. He was someone who knew how to do this and that so perfectly, you couldn't even spot a single flaw, they were done so thoroughly. He was my idol. My brother. He could hurl a kunai so precisely, that I used to hound him to teach me. I wanted to be just like him. Big and strong, able to beat anything!  
  
Whenever I got the chance, I used to go and beg him to teach me how to throw a shuriken, and if I was lucky, a kunai. I remember I always used to squeal happily at him whenever I saw him, saying, "Itachi-aniki! Can you teach me to throw a shuriken now?" But every time I went and asked, he would always gaze down at me, the way big grothers do, ruffle my hair absent-mindedly, and say, "not now, Sasuke. I'm busy. Maybe some other time." But he never did. Another broken promise that fluttered down lifelessly to nestle on top of all of the other ones.  
  
But that was when I was very young.  
  
I was filled with a type of... Irrepressible optimism, you could say.  
  
He was always very busy. As captain of the Anbu squad, I could imagine why. My mother used to say that he was "different" from the rest of us. But I never listened. To me, he was just my big, lovable, brother. I wanted to grow up to be just like him.  
  
But that belief died, like his promises, the day that god-forsaken, horrible event happened. I still can't get it out of my mind. The images of that slaughter haunt me, like lithe, wispy spirits, always following you wherever you go. I just can't believe he could betray me like that. I remember that it happened on a Friday, the day every kid worships. The day when you get home from school and do your homework first thing so you can play all weekend. That's what I wanted to do. I wanted to play with my aniki. I can remember rushing home from school, in my little six-year-old body, clearly anticipating the chance to play and look up at the clouds with my older brother.  
  
I had no idea that my innocent young eyes were about to witness something not meant for any child's young gaze to fall upon. I was about to be scarred for life. On that Friday, I was happily sprinting up my family's pathway to the entrance gate, when I noticed something strange. It was completely, and utterly quiet. Nothing made a sound. No crickets chirruped, no birds sang in their melodious voices. I made my way up the steps, and took off my shoes as I entered the doorway, a tad bit nervous. "Mom?" I called, "Dad?" My voice echoed throughout the empty house growing fainter as it went. I shrugged off my thin jacket, and walked through the long hallways and corridors of my house, calling out various family members' names. But no-one answered.  
  
I finally came to stop at my young cousin's door. She was three years old, and I wanted to see if she, too, disappeared. I remember all the times I went shopping with her, she would ask me to go to the strawberries. I would always lift her up, so she could see them, and she would always cry to me, "Sasuke-kun, I want to get some strawberties!" I would always laugh, and say, "ha ha ha, they're not strawberties, they're strawberries!" I was very fond of her. She didn't like Itachi. She said he scared her. When I opened the door slowly, nervously, I was not prepared to witness what was there. There was my cousin, but she was not as hyper and lively as a three-year- old should be. She was not even moving. She couldn't with a kunai in her delicate, young heart. I gave a strangled sob, and rushed over to her. I lightly touched her once bouncy and lively hair, but now, it was just limp and lifeless.  
  
I backed out of her room, horrified. An anguished cry was stuck in my throat. I ran to my uncle's and aunt's room. Blood. All over them. My uncle used to be a strict, commanding man, but I liked him. But he would never become a teacher, like he dreamed. My aunt was a wonderful mother to my cousin. She never even died near her.  
  
I was horrified. Who could have done this? Fearing the worst, I rushed into my parent's room. I wasn't even ready for what I saw.  
  
Blood.  
  
Everywhere.  
  
Spattered on the walls like crimson paint.  
  
Dripping from the ceiling.  
  
But the now forever-stained walls and ceiling did not hold my attention for two seconds at most. What captivated me, in a horrible, sinister way, was my aniki. My brother. Standing over my mother's and father's bodies, staring down at them in malcontempt. I gave another strangled sob, when I saw the kunai lodged in my mother's throat.  
  
Drip.  
  
Once pale and delicate, now red and sticky from the ever-flowing waves of blood that poured forth from the fatal wound. Her hands were lying limp around the bloodied blade, in a failed attempt to stem the blood flow. Her clothes were now soaked in her crimson blood, not showing their true color through the darkness of the red. Her eyes were misted over, but showed the kind of pain she suffered and died from. I could see them easily from where I stood.  
  
Drip.  
  
Next was my father. He had a huge gash in his chest, and one arm was draped limply across his chest, the other limply covering the still oozing gash. He gave up life when he felt death approaching. His eyes were closed. His once proud demeanor was gone, smothered my the uncountable layers of blood, both dry and still wet, covering him.  
  
Drip.  
  
Some blood fell into my hair, but I was too horrified to notice it. I fell down on my knees, staring at the lifeless bodies of my parents.  
  
Gone.  
  
Everything I cared for, all gone.  
  
Itachi turned around, finally hearing me. "Well, well. Look who's here." He sneered.  
  
Why is he so cruel... Why did he do this...  
  
I finally found my voice, but it came out in a whisper, small and weak. "Why did you do this?" He gazed down at me, as if contemplating my question. "I did it to test my strength." He answered calmly.  
  
How can he show no emotion for what he just did...  
  
Drip.  
  
I stared at him in disbelief. He killed, no, massacred his and my whole family to just test his strength? He was growing bored with me. He walked calmly over to me, with me drawing away from his every step. I whimpered as I hit the wall, feeling the dampness of the blood soaking on it. He gazed down at me with boredom, but there was something else behind those eyes of his. Was it...contempt...?  
  
"I want you..." he began, unblinking, "...to grow up to hate me."  
  
I visibly flinched.  
  
How...could I hate my own brother...  
  
I was staring into those eyes of his, trapped in the redness of the Sharingan he possessed. Like me. Like my Sharingan.  
  
"Grow up so you can kill me."  
  
Drip. The crimson drops were like a metronome, always staying in beat. But this time it scared me.  
  
"Grow up and live in contempt of me. Show no love to anyone."  
  
Drip.  
  
I was captivated by their constant dripping, unable to stop listening to them blend in with my brother's talking. Unable to stop my own uselessness. Unable to free myself from this nightmare.  
  
Unable to move.  
  
"Show no emotion. That is your curse I place on you."  
  
Drip.  
  
I continue to stare at him, stuck in a horrible trance I was unable to escape. He trapped me with those eyes. Those entrancing eyes.  
  
Those blood-red eyes...  
  
"For the next minute, you shall relive this moment. You shall relive this event, as I have seen it. May it be the worst minute of your life."  
  
Drip.  
  
My mind suddenly became plagued with the images of the slaughter. I watched my family members live the last moment of their lives, dieing, bleeding to death... I could not shut my eyes to the horrible images. I could not stop them from coming.  
  
I could not help but watch.  
  
That was the longest minute of my life.  
  
When it finally faded, I looked up, weakly, to see my aniki glaring down at me. A new wave of terror washed over me, freezing me to the spot. His eyes...colder than ever...forever glaring at me, glaring at me in my memory.  
  
"Run, Sasuke. Run like a coward! Fear me! Hate me! Loath me! Run!" He shouted at me. He swirled his cloak around him. It had white roses on it.  
  
Drip.  
  
What choice did I have? I ran.  
  
(*.*) (*.*)  
  
I look back on that memory, and remember all of those broken promises... All of those clouds at first I didn't notice... And all of that blood... And I remember all of the hate Itachi showed me in those eyes...  
  
I gaze blankly at the sky.  
  
Full of clouds so familiar I could have sworn I was six again. I sat down in front of their graves, placing scarlet roses on each one. I delicately placed three red tulips in the middle of each batch of flowers. I whisper a tiny prayer at each grave.  
  
I hear a distant rumble, but ignore it.  
  
I finally stand up, but do not make a move to leave. I stare down at each grave, remembering when they were still here. And trying not to remember how they left. But not everyone. Now, I glance up at the cloudy sky, hearing, once again, a deep roll of thunder. But that does not matter. Because I do not feel the cold.  
  
But in my hand is a single white rose. I miss you...  
  
And hate you at the same time...  
  
Drip.  
  
And it starts to rain. 


End file.
